


Pairs of Pumpkins Episode 1: Family Ties (3 Chapters)

by JessFaulks



Series: Pairs of Pumpkins [1]
Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Furry, Incest, Knotting, Large Breasts, Large Cock, Parent/Child Incest, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessFaulks/pseuds/JessFaulks
Summary: On the trail of a suspected kidnapping of her own younger brother and sister, vixen adventuress Portia Pridemoon returns to the land of her birth and exile for the first time in many years. She anticipated a confrontation with the suspicious sorcerer behind it but instead must face his gorgeous, young house boy, her dubious judgement and even her own secretive past.
Series: Pairs of Pumpkins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953265
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Family Ties: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started like any other infiltration...

#  **Pairs of Pumpkins Season 1 Episode 1:**

#  **Family Ties (Part 1)**

_ By Jess Faulks _

  
  


Snow crunched under hard-soled boots on the untended, forest back road, the only sound to interrupt the silence of the arctic night. The sharp-eared adventuress was up to her knees in it, making time slower than she was used to and every curse from her black-freckled muzzle birthed a new cloud of breath . Her cloak draped out around her on the surface of the snow, split by a thick, ivory fox tail that swished back and forth in a waltz-like rhythm, brushing away the traces of her deep footsteps.

With scarcely little information what lay ahead beyond her estranged family potentially in peril, she was on her most alert and her leather-gloved hand griped the handle of a mace, the weapon hanging from her belt, in the confines of her cloak. Glancing over her shoulders reassured her that the twin tomahawks strapped to her backpack would be ready if needed. She had prepared as best she could be for any danger at the end of this road.

Portia Pridemoon's legs were damp from snow that reached the top of her thigh-high boots, under a banded, leather skirt. It wasn't cold against the layers of her ivory, arctic fur: just annoying. The vixen hadn't run away from this place half a lifetime ago because of the weather, but she didn't miss it either. She returned to colder climates sometimes in her travels but never expected she would ever wind up back in this one: the icy, island fortress of The Pale Lands.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have a daughter?"

The journey had started nearly a month ago with what she assumed was a pickup line at a small town tavern, from a mead-breathed, old rat, a full foot shorter than her. She had been on the central mainland's coast where rain was their biggest problem this time of year. "I swear I seen her while traveling in The Pale Lands!" He must have been a merchant or a trader as rats were not a native species to her homeland, and Palelanders were not welcoming to foreigners unless it was for commerce or trade. "She was young, but she looked almost exactly like you. Well, except for her chest."

"That tends to be the differentiating factor from me and other vixens," she said without looking in his direction, drinking her mead.

The rat had been quiet for a moment, leaning back and taking a long and obvious appraisal of her. "No, I mean bigger than you. Maybe twice as big!"

Her muzzle was thankfully half in her mug when she spit it out with a laugh. "I doubt that."

"It's not a sight I seen before and maybe never will again, but no red-blooded man is going to forget a pair of tits that make those look small."

She didn't expect to be so insulted, but she never expected to hear such a thing at all. For the typical scale of most folk, Portia didn't have the kind of breasts that people noticed: she was the kind that people remembered. Each of them easily dwarfed her head and together they dominated her torso, even covered and restrained in her hard leather armor as they were usually. They were substantial to a degree that they affected her mobility, training and even choice of weaponry. She would never fire a longbow or swing a two-handed sword with any efficiency and the fact that she made a successful career as an adventurer-for-hire despite them, ensured some amount of reputation would be inevitable. It made an impression when people saw her in action.

That endowment often speculated to be the result of magic, had a reasonable, scientific explanation but one that she could never share. It was the physical signature of the Vasiljev royal bloodline: the Ruling Family of The Pale Lands, the Puritanical leadership of the religiously repressive Queendom and her own abandoned lineage, who swaddled themselves in heavy blankets, to hide their endowments in shame. Pridemoon was a surname adopted as a teenager after running away and literally making a name for herself. To The Pale Lands, Portia Vasiljev, first heiress to the throne, was dead and it was better for everyone for that to never be challenged. On the continent, she was a foreigner with an exotic appearance and unlike her family, she was quite proud of the way she looked.

If anyone was spotted looking so similar to her, it was likely someone of her bloodline, either a sister or a cousin. If they were out in public and not escorted by a Royal security detail, they were probably in trouble.

At the end of the tree-lined road, a walled manor appeared, of a scale only inconspicuous for its location. While the footprint wasn't unusual or excessive for a residence, the house stood a full, four stories high with a tower rising at least one more floor. The fifteen-foot wall surrounding it would be enough to deter most undesirables. The heavy hand of the Queen kept the Queendom generally quite safe from rogues and bandits but any desolate forest land had its share of native beasts and monsters. The wall didn't appear able to be manned, and she saw no guards posted but there was the smoke of a hearth rising into the night sky and several windows flickered with firelight. Someone was home and if the rat's speculation had been correct, the defenses would likely be magical. With her left hand still gripping her mace tightly, her right moved to hold the warm, roughly chiseled, metal charm that hung from her necklace.

It was made from a material called Relagite, an ore so rare that most metallurgists didn't believe it existed, and she had never heard of it in all her travels, until a former adventuring party of hers claimed to know where to find some. The story was it had an extra-planar mass so dense that spells cast towards it could not escape and worn as a charm, the effect was to dispel all magic targeted at the wearer. Portia never trusted wizards but this recent acquisition meant she didn't have to be so afraid of them. As an added benefit, it could be used to scrape away Wards, which if this were a sorcerer's lair, the walls were likely covered in.

"It was the busty fox and I'd guess her younger brother, a teenager riding on the back of a carriage," the merchant explained after she purchased his drink and dinner. "In the front sat an absolute behemoth of a horse next to a creepy, old raccoon in robes. Once the raccoon noticed me, he stared back with the evilest glare ever seen! Those beady, black eyes looked right into my soul!" he said with a shiver. "I saw them take a fork in the road at Crackle Bend, heading towards the mountain and I heard rumors a dark sorcerer lives down that way. Perhaps it was him?"

She didn't know many of her cousins well, especially after all the time away but the pairing sounded too familiar. Her only sister, Augustina who would be in her early twenties by now and her youngest brother, Prince Mikke, had been born a few years after Portia's departure. Describing her sister as she'd last seen her would do no good: her fur was still a pup's back then. If the girl witnessed was really bustier than her and the cousins were weaker blooded versions of the royal family, then it had to be her and possibly Mikke.

With the rat's descriptions and her dated but thorough knowledge of her ancestral homeland, they drew a map together. The next morning she set out alone and with haste, venturing toward the coast but not just any ships would be welcomed in the handful of harbors of the island fortress. She made the straightest line she could to reach the Port of Balhovka, the only trading city to her homeland and from there, she booked discreet passage, hiding away under the deck of a merchant ship for the several days journey over icy seas.

Portia had never been to Samyi, the main commercial port of The Pale Lands where she disembarked but it fit the mold of every other drab city and village here: dull, modest and boring. Even colors were rejected in the conservative Queendom beyond what was natural for it's boreal forest landscape: whites and blacks, gray, browns and greens. Yellow, orange and red were forbidden to wear and visitors with such coats, while not in itself a crime, were strongly encouraged to keep themselves covered up indoors. Outside, with the temperature consistently below freezing, it was less of an issue. She kept her hood up and used a balled-up blanket to reshape her cloak into something more amorphous. It had been nearly two decades since she ran away but couldn't risk being recognized.

There was no nostalgia for her feet to be on native soil, and she had not missed this place. The only signs of life were the shambling of sullen townsfolk minding their own business, eyes down on the ground in front of them. The land was joyless, and she wouldn't stay any longer than necessary.

She ventured out of Samyi and through a well-groomed mountain pass to the central valley, an expanse of farmland and untouched forest. Spaced perfectly for every day's travel along the highway was a small village and often, a tavern or inn at the midday point. For all the boredom and gloom of The Pale Lands, their infrastructure was superb. Seven days and six stops later, she reached the village of Lepaja, the one closest to her destination. The landmark of Crackle Bend was another two hours beyond, and she had set off for it past an early afternoon sundown, timing her arrival to around midnight. She would approach it discreetly under the cover of darkness, something easily timed this far north. It was the last week of Felan's Moon, the first month of the year and the Sun's time in the sky was short, adding an extra level of misery to an already miserable place.

The vixen circled the entire perimeter, looking for wards of deterrent and defense and finding several. She didn't know one from another but imagined if she were defending such a remote place with magic, it would be a combination of traps to ensnare or destroy an attacker and alarms to mobilize a counter-attack. It didn't matter what they did exactly since if she could find it, she could break it. With a single, deep scrape of her relagite charm, the ward would fizzle and sometimes smoke before being rendered inert. Without the magic to preserve it, they all faded instantly and some even weathered before her eyes.

After a diligent search she found and severed six, clearly marked wards, the low, ambient heat of magic keeping the snow from covering them. She found another three, partially covered in snow and faded and aged so severely that they might not work at all, but she broke them anyway, just to be certain. There was a small, satisfying fizzle of smoke with each. "I guess these things don't expire," she mused to herself.

With the wards cleared, Portia tossed her grappling hook and scaled the wall easily then dropped down into the yard, landing with a controlled tumble in the snow. Frozen in a crouch at the bottom, she studied the scene and if it would react to her but all remained still and silent. There was a one-story shed that had been concealed by the wall but otherwise the grounds appeared bare under the blanket of snow, existing only to surround the house itself. With a breath of relief she stood and approached the house, Once near it, she circled around, looking for clues to its contents by peering into windows as well as noting any possible points of entry. From some angles, she could see a flickering, indirect light from a hearth fire but no one seemed to be moving about. The windows of the house managed to stay clear of any built up snow and were warm to the touch. Either the place had incredibly efficient heating or more magic was in use.

The manor stood nearly as tall as her rope was long. Trying to attach a grappling hook to a snow covered roof risked a conspicuous avalanche if it could find a suitable anchor at all. The upper windows didn't seem any more accessible than the lower ones, all of them too small for entry, even if they could be opened from the exterior. Strangely, there was no back or side door, only the front. One, single way in and out.

The scene outside didn't answer many questions at all and her impatience and curiosity were nagging at her to proceed forward, into the unknown. She had to trust that her experience as a fighter and her relagite charm would be enough to deal with the wizard, should it come to a battle.

The behemoth of a horse was the kind of opponent she could prepare for and so she had. Outside of her usual repertoire of tricks, she had purchased a potent, knockout poison and blow darts before leaving Balhovka. She sourced it from a merchant she knew and trusted when he assured her a single dose could fell the tallest and largest of folk in seconds. Two doses cost her what an acre of farmable land would and it would start to lose potency in six weeks.

All this assumed she even had the right house. The Pale Lands were sparse but the rat's story wasn't a gospel truth. Memories were fallible but there was only one way to find out. She touched the relagite medallion for reassurance then secured her cloak tighter around her form. After a deep breath and a nervous shiver, she knocked heavily on the front door before rushing back a few steps, mindful of windows that would give away her position. She spun around there and knelt with the blowgun at ready.

A long silence followed. It was a large house and she considered if she should knock again when the door stirred. It opened halfway, revealing an absolute brute of a stallion, chestnut-furred and thick in every proportion, wrapped in menacing, black, leather armor, nearly filling the whole, nine-foot doorway. His black mane was unkept and wild, even as somehow it didn't react to the light breeze at all. His eyes were fiery with annoyance and his right hand brandished a hatchet of a scale that would be a two-handed axe for most creatures to swing but barely more than a toy to him. She knew many stallions in her travels, and they were sometimes taller than seven feet but almost always shy of eight and only draft horses were anywhere near so thick with muscle. Indeed, a giant horse in a land where equines weren't common at all. This was the place.

The cracked door presented enough of him for Portia to blow a dart right into his exposed neck. He flinched at the sting, feeling around for it before his eyes caught the vixen, a cloaked lump against the snow and put together what was happening. She hurried to reload and ready the blowgun again. If the poison didn't work, she wanted to at least slow him down as much as possible before a real fight.

White teeth bared and nostrils doubled in size at the end of the horse's long face before the door swung open forcefully, slamming out against the stone entryway. The horse took one stomp forward out into the snow before he wobbled, the strength draining from his face. The vixen was still as she waited, coiled up, ready to fire the second dart then run to buy the poison some time but it became apparent she wouldn't need to. His alert eyes relaxed and rolled back in his head then he fell forward onto his face, oddly quiet as the thick snow cushioned the fall. \

The horseman lay still for a long moment, but she kept the blowgun aimed anyway, slowly closing the distance, then giving him a shake with her foot, out of reach of his arms. The poison had worked as promised and the high purchase price, justified.

She gave a sigh of relief before stepping over him at the threshold of the house, the unconscious body blocking the door from being able to shut. She looked down at the limp, thousand pound horse and the heavy door, held open by his body, seeming to expose the house to the full brunt of winter. Anyone inside was going to notice before long.

"Shit."

She hurried over him and into the house, dimly but evenly lit with flickering oil lamps but there was no time to study the room. She grabbed him by the feet, his legs alone nearly too heavy to lift, but she managed to get them in her armpits and attempt to drag him inside with her every bit of strength. The effort was no more effective than trying to move the entire house. He didn't budge.

The vixen cursed herself again. She had grown up in these winter conditions and had since dealt with many bodies she couldn't lift herself. She could have lured him out into the snow and at least closed the door but then the horse would freeze to death before she knew if he was guilty of any crime. So far, all he'd done had been being spotted with a suspiciously familiar vixen.

Squat at his feet, she became aware of the surrounding warmth. Despite the front door being wide open around a giant horse, there was no wind or snow crossing the threshold into the house. A glance down at the doorway confirmed that, as a hard line of snowflakes accumulated at the door sill. More magic. The wizard that lived here must be quite potent to be using spells for such comforts.

"What are you doing?!"

Someone else was here! She twirled around and drew the mace, holding it at the ready, only to find a teenage fox in an evening robe at the base of a large, spiral staircase in the center of the house. He was a safe distance from her but still backpedaling at the quickness of her action. A dagger gripped in one hand left the other mercifully free to catch himself on the banister when he tripped over the first step. The quick hand kept him from falling back entirely and he froze, hanging on to it while still brandishing the blade. He was no threat.

The full sight of him disarmed her. He was young but strikingly attractive, with white fur and tall, pointed ears capped in dark tips, his visible hands of a matching color. His headfur was cut short and messy, a golden chestnut similar to her own but his eyes nearly matched it. She seldom crossed paths with another arctic fox at all and had forgotten what a handsome species they all were but something more than familiarity bridged the distance between them, a connection instant and shocking. Her pulse was already racing from the scare of being discovered but with the young man revealed and clearly no real threat, it wasn't stopping.

Her posture softened from a martial stance and her jaw fell with a puff of a disbelieving laugh but stayed open to feed her elevated breath. She had not been in the same room with any from her immediate family in nearly two decades and her childhood with them had been every bit as cold as the land they ruled. Was this how families were supposed to feel together, now that she had shaken off the emotional oppression of her youth? How dare they had stolen such magnetism. Such euphoria!

Portia stepped closer, tossing aside her weapon, but he was not so quickly disarmed by her. From the railing, he pulled himself upright to stand, barely tall enough to reach her shoulder. He threatened with the dagger like a child might, but she stopped as a courtesy.

"Mikke?"

The young fox flattened his ears back in confusion.

"You're not Mikke Vasiljev?"

His head gave a small shake and her brow furrowed. That didn't make sense. Something was unusual about him and there was an immediate connection more sophisticated than she might a typical, attractive male . If it wasn't Mikke, then it was okay for the feeling to resemble attraction but it was more than that. Attraction was something she recognized.

"Princess Augustina: is she here?" she snapped a rapid follow up, and he was every bit as confused. This wasn't them. "Augustina Vasiljev? Both of the royal family of this land?" His expression was blank. "Is Beatrice still the Queen?"

"I don't know any of those names. I'm Joseph." His tension had softened in her inquiries but his posture remained guarded.

"You don't know who rules The Pale Lands?" she folded her arms and his young eyes fell down to her chest as he shook his head. "Everyone knows that."

"I don't get to leave much. Or talk to many people." He spoke to her breasts unapologetically and in the front of his robe, the billowing folds stirred.

She huffed, bemused and perked a brow. "See something you like?"

The comment smacked him back into the moment, and he tore his eyes away, brandishing the dagger. "Who are you and what are you doing in here?!"

"There's been a bit of a misunderstanding. Your equine friend here answered the door then just fainted, and he's too heavy for me to move. Will you help me bring him inside?"

"Master Zarron could move him with ease, but he would be angry to find an uninvited guest. He might do bad things to you. I've seen." Misunderstanding or not, the traveler had called this the home of a dark sorcerer and it warranted some investigation after coming all this way.

"Your master might notice if we don't get the door closed. Help me move him then I'll leave, okay?" She took a step back and untied her cloak then waited for his reaction, aware both of the warmth of the interior and the persuasive power her chest had on boys and men. The opened cloak revealed her leather breastplate , supporting and restraining the rounded bulk of her exceptional bust while protecting the entirety of her chest. The only fur exposed was a crevasse of squeezed cleavage framed by a triangle-shaped window, a sort of vent with a flap she could open to keep cool but close before battle. His eyes fell to them again, widening this time. She gave a wink then turned with a twirl of her cloak and moved to take one of the horse's bare, hooved feet in her arms.

He set down his weapon and hurried to join her, grabbing one heavy, hooven foot as she lifted the other, the two of them shoulder to shoulder. He smelled incredible, like fresh lavender essence, something that would be contraband in The Pale Lands. Cleanliness and hygiene were highly valued in the Queendom but anything resembling a perfume was forbidden as a thing of vanity. He didn't know who the Queen was, he didn't get to leave much, but his scent was like a flower that couldn't grow in this climate. Perhaps Mikke and Augustina were uninvolved in this but the situation was too peculiar to not warrant further investigation.

Both foxes pulled, planting feet firmly in the floorboards and tugging with their whole bodies. The limp horse moved slightly within his clothes and armor until the friction caught against the floor, and he would no longer budge. They tugged harder still at the resistance, muscles flexing and teeth gritting in strain but the horse proved all but immovable from this method.

Joseph's added strength didn't help much at all. The unconscious horse was easily several times her weight and by the time they gave up, they'd both broken out in a sweat. For her, it was mostly from the dramatic change in temperature from the freezing outside to the balmy interior and being quite overdressed but for him, it was entirely from the effort. They both stepped back to reconsider but Joseph went straight to shrugging off his robe and tossing it aside, revealing the long, purple nightshirt he wore beneath. Another vanity item forbidden in The Pale Lands were dyed textiles that served no practical function.

It hung down his lanky form by an ill-fitting collar and down to his knees, the fabric thick enough not to reveal or obscure not every detail but the flickering oil lamps cast harsh shadows. The remnants of the earlier, concealed reaction in his robe was evident: the fox's manhood wasn't entirely inert. His masculine bulge had started to tent from the vague but girthy, conical outline of his sheath that crowned a triumvirate of blatant masculinity, his testicles huge and obvious, perhaps as large as her hand would be while holding his.

She looked on as he disrobed, a form revealed that reminded her he was young but very much a man and not the brother she had expected. Only then did she realize that euphoria she felt at the mistaken connection had not retreated at all and it's origin seemed less alien now, with her better grasp of the situation. It tingled in the tips of her fingers. In her stomach and lower still, to her feminine center and her mouth watered like he was a meal.

For the vixen heroine, sex was as much a part of embracing true freedom as the rest of her life of adventure. She ran away from a strict, puritan life of shame and repression, a virgin with a head full of pure delusions and ideas about sex that had soured without release. The outside world was brimming with opportunities for a busty, headstrong, teenage vixen to prove herself and from her first time with a man she'd just met, sex was an act of defiance from her culture and a reclamation of her agency from the obligations of royal life.

How had no one among the courtly help back then, not noticed she was physically incapable of bearing young? What kind of Princess could not give their Queendom an heir? No, fate was quite in support of her chosen path of true independence. Children, marriage and even love: they were more obligations and expectations. Traps in life to navigate, the same as she would a perilous dungeon. Every act of loveless, childless sex became a tiny rebellion, the ultimate expression of her femininity, power and freedom. As she came to gain some notoriety as a capable heroine and adventuress over those early years on her own, the stories of her promiscuity followed shortly behind.

Even with her head momentarily swimming with dirty thoughts, she had learned discretion in her staring unlike the teenage fox and when he turned his attention back to her, she ripped her eyes away. The combined heat of all of it was now quite uncomfortable.

"Good idea."

Portia shrugged off her backpack first, the adventuring gear she kept light and efficiently packed, with the tomahawks she fought with in deadly engagements hanging from it. Their long reach complimented by a two-weapon fighting style and allowed her to use them with ease in broad chops from above or outside, in gestures that her obtrusive chest would not interfere with.

She shed the heavy cloak next and sighed in relief to be free of the warmth and weight of it before she hung it up on a stand by the front door, with several other cloaks . Her light, leather armor was built for a more moderate climate and protected her while revealing the natural shape of her that her cloak had obscured. Fur-lined gloves were up to her elbows and their outer shape suggesting some kind of forearm reinforcement. They matched her thigh-high boots in design and material, which had similarly reinforced shins and toes. Only a thin stripe of strong, ivory furred thigh could be seen before they disappeared up under a skirt formed from a layered array of hard leather strips with studs at the ends, providing her legs and lower torso with protection that emphasized mobility. From her waspish hips, her belt hung, supporting her mace and a sheathed dagger but also a number of assorted pouches, pockets and purses.

Her top was the most remarkable piece. It covered her from her shoulders to her stomach, protecting her upper body but engineered to restrain the tremendous bulk of her chest to be rigid, predictable and as out-of-her-way as possible. A breastplate in the truest meaning of the word, it held her abundance high and proud, jutting out as far in front of her as her elbows would reach with her arms in full extension. The sculpted leather had still more pouches attached but most remarkable were the three, heavy belts across its front, to hold it closed and ratchet them as tight as she could bear. With a relieved sigh, she turned back to the wide-eyed and staring Joseph. "I'll lift from the head and you, the feet."

"By the Gods, you've got breasts like my sisters! They're huge!"

Portia gave a wry, proud grin and a cocky shrug.

"Evangeline, anyway. She's as big as you are. My other sister, Anastasia is way bigger. Maybe even twice as big!"

“People keep saying that.” Portia sighed and looked down at herself, befuddled and tapped her elbows against the outer curves of her breastplate, trying to visualize the idea.

"Yeah, she's really clumsy. She can barely use her arms, and she can't run more than a few steps without losing balance. But you're not my sister. We're.... Not related," he said with a sudden self awareness that drew her eyes down with his. In the front of his nightshirt, his cock pushed forward and out like a ship launched from dry dock, tenting dramatically before the weight forced it to fall. It was hardly less dramatic as it hung, the shadows cast suggesting a thickness like her forearm, down past his knee.

The sight dumbfounded her, pushing aside the uncommon, jealous thoughts of other women she'd not met. She stared for a long moment as his maleness developed before her eyes, a monster shifting and swelling in concealment until it angled forward enough to snag the bottom of his nightshirt.

Drinking in the rest of his body with her eyes, he was lean and fit. Very much still a teenager but in the moment, a sexually mature man. His massive, masculine appendage had swelled to life, well beyond what decent people considered well-endowed and into the domain of the freakish and impractical.

The headstrong vixen had developed an appetite for all manners of challenges as the world repeatedly underestimated her and rebellious sex was no exception. The greater the deviancy of an act, the more gleefully she blasphemed the oppressive orthodoxy that had molded her. Strain, discomfort and respectful perversion during coitus became her preferred flavor, a perfect cocktail to pleasure her body, mind and pride at once and so she had developed quite an appetite for the most absurdly-endowed of men.

She'd taken quickly to equine lovers for their naturally challenging size and had been with many men like the unconscious brute at her feet but over time, experience and travel, she'd learned to spot the most generous bulges and codpieces in males of all species.

Now the sight of an imperfectly huge cock made it difficult to concentrate when she wasn't under immediate threat. Compounded by the strange, familiar excitement of his presence, her stomach floated and her blood rushed like crashing, river rapids, coming to soak her loins with arousal.

It was easier to dismiss him as too young before such a presentation, even as he stood there, small with unsure posture and frozen with embarrassment. "Uhhh, are you okay?" he managed to stammer out, trying his best to ignore what was happening to his body.

_ Snap out of it! _

"Quite a thing to notice your sister's breasts," she said with a coy grin, ignoring the nervous dampness that clumped the fur of her face and hair. She squatted down, resting her bosom on the back of the horse's head before the boy's envious eyes then she hooked his wrists underneath his armpits and straightened her back, bracing to lift, flexing her thick thighs.

"No! Ewww! Disgusting!" he said with a vigorous shake of his head. He rushed up to help, squatting down and hooking both of the horse's legs under his arms. In this position his swollen maleness aimed right at her, the rough outline of his canine erection mimicking a third knee. Her eyes fixated on his adolescent monster again and she pushed her hips softly into the crown of the horse's head, grinding subtly. It was just for a moment while she looked back up to his youthful face and innocent eyes. He was too young. She had a job to do.

"Lift!" she barked and they both did, their thighs easily getting them halfway up but gravity resisted beyond that. Gritted teeth and straining faces followed as they struggled with the weight.

"Hnnnnnghhhh!" the young fox groaned with the effort, making a face she imagined would preclude his explosive orgasm and pictured for a moment those legs he cradled being hers.

_ Stop thinking about fucking this kid! _

It was easy for her good sense to say, as if it didn't share a body with her thirsty loins or eyes staring down the obscured form of a gorgeous, huge dick. In her haste to get there, she hadn't taken a lover since the beginning of this quest and a more objective part of her brain reminded her of how many weeks that had been.

She grunted too, channeling her sexual frustration into the lift and the horse finally started to clear the ground. "Walk back! Walk back!" They shuffled in disorderly semi-unison, a few feet until the young fox lost his footing and fell back, pulling Portia off balance as well. The young fox landed on his rump and the vixen on the back of the horse's thighs, face first and splayed out across him, the horse's trouser-clad rear in front of her face.

"Did we clear it?" he asked with some embarrassment, and she lifted up herself enough to look back over her shoulder.

"We did!" Portia planted her hands on the stallion's broad rump, stealing a grope before she pushed herself back to her feet. She turned to face the door, the invisible line that held the snow out holding strong as it piled higher. "Magic," she muttered then gave the door a tap with her foot to swing it closed, before she looked back to the boy.

He had stepped back to the table and retrieved the dagger, a still more comical threat now that he had an erection bigger than his weapon. "Tell me what's going on here," he said with wavering confidence, and she bared her palms, out and open. "Master Zarron tells us when we are expecting company, and he didn't tell us to expect you."

"No, he wouldn't have," Portia said, standing tall and proud, being sure to keep her chest pushed out. "I heard that maybe you and your sister were being held against your will and I'm here to see if you needed help." She took a small step forward and lowered her voice. "Do you need help? Were you kidnapped?"

Joseph was clearly confused more than he should have been by this question. "I... we... no. We were all born here. We've lived here all our lives. At least, I have."

"But Zarron. He's the raccoon, right? Where are your parents?"

The questions were causing him to panic, and he raised the dagger again. "I don't think you're supposed to be here. You should go."

Portia gave an innocent but crooked smile and took another step closer, speaking with a tone she had cultivated over her years to melt men. "Is that really what you want? For me to leave and you to never see me again?"

He shook where he stood, obvious in his conflict. "You're asking a lot of questions. Master Zarron doesn't like me to talk unless I'm spoken to."

"I'm speaking to you."

"By him. Or my sisters."

She offered her hands, palms out and open. "I just want to know what's going on here. Make sure everyone is happy, safe and free. Make sure that your Master isn't hurting anyone. Can we go, sit down together and talk? It's cold out there and I'm obviously not here to hurt you."

His eyes finally succumbed to the pull of her breasts again and he replied directly to them. "Five minutes. Then you have to go."

_ To Be Continued... _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up...

#  **Pairs of Pumpkins Season 1 Episode 1:**

#  **Family Ties (Part 2)**

_ By Jess Faulks _

Joseph paused and looked down at himself and his brazen erection. "I need my robe. This is embarrassing."

Portia waited for him to fetch the it, resisting the urge to stop him. It would be easier to get to the bottom of whatever oddness was going on here if she couldn't be distracted by his tented, eager maleness. While he put it back on, she made her way to a couch in front of the home's hearth, leaving her cloak, pack and mace behind at the door.

She draped her arm over the back of the couch and glanced back as he approached. The boy was apprehensive as he sat down some distance from her, adjusting to pin his erection between his thighs, his attention captured again by her chest. Gloved fingers took a grip on the back of the couch and she scooted closer until her knee touched his, her hanging hand nearly at his shoulder. "Now, tell me about your parents. Where are they?"

"I don't have parents. None of us do," he said, looking towards the fire, keeping his hands in his lap with his knees pushed together, helping to stop his stiff cock from springing up toward the ceiling.

Portia froze for a moment. "No parents? You never met your mother and father?"

He gazed to the floor and gave his head a small shake.

_ Were they all orphans? Was this something to do with the supposed dark sorcery? _

She took her hands back to slip the relagite medallion from around her neck. The nervous boy glanced over the metal charm that bounced against the tops of her breasts before she removed the necklace. She offered it to him, without much thought of what could happen if he had been some magical creature but perhaps the anti-magic effects of it would tell her something. "Hold this."

He sat uncomfortably, legs outstretched from the couch, slouching deeply. Charcoal-furred hands took the offered medallion and inspected it without any apparent reaction. "What is this?"

"Just an amulet. It protects me."

"Oh, I see," he said, handing it back to her. She replaced it as he watched, squirming a little in his seat and wincing in discomfort. She was quite familiar with these kinds of reactions.

"You're in a lot of pain, aren't you? You don't need to hide that from me. Go ahead and take it out," she said with a quieter tone, pursing her lips with curious anticipation.

She wanted those words to come from a place of mercy. He was young, awkward and suffering, and she, a benevolent adventuress, full of kindness and grace but her pulse had been racing since she met him. The revelation he was not her younger brother allowed the curious connection she had felt so immediately with him to have become entirely sexual. Her jaw hung open slightly, feeding hungry lungs for quickened breaths, heaving her heavy bosom in a way that had intense gravity to his teenage eyes. Mercy had nothing to do with it.

His eyes tracked her chest so securely that they rose and fell with her while his ears had flattened back and his brow crumpled in disbelief and indecision, his mouth trembling as if searching for words but only a whimper eventually came.

His head dipped down to look at himself, releasing a loud sigh before his knees relaxed, launching his trapped monster upwards like a catapult, flinging his nightshirt off it, only stopping when it smacked his sternum. Relief hissed from the boy's lungs but Portia's attention was fully on his revelation.

Presented to the open air and dominating his chest stood his red, canine erection, freakishly massive like his tent had hinted, twice the size of what should be proportionate for this young man of less than five feet in height. It was long and thick like his forearm and glossy with the wetness of his sheath, with a pointed tip atop a taper that came to full thickness quickly and maintained down to the clenched ball at the base of it, which promised to swell up larger still into a canine knot to lock himself into his lover the moment before ejaculation. The testicles beneath were bigger than his fists and evoked images that such ejaculations could be spectacular. It was perfect.

_ Focus Portia! _

The vixen darted her eyes back to his, finding them studying her face with fearful uncertainty. How long had she been staring at it? "Why are you so hard? Because of me?"

"I don't get to leave here very much. I'm the caretaker of this estate. Only when Zarron is here and needs something then he takes me with him sometimes but that isn't often at all. He rarely has guests, and he and my sisters spend months at a time in the south, leaving me here all alone to take care of the place."

"Is he here now? Or are we alone?" She interrupted and edged closer.

"Everyone is here but they barely ever come downstairs. Except Darren," he said with a gesture back to the unconscious horse, sprawled out on the floor. "But they almost never come down. Anastasia studies magic with Master. In the South, Evangeline tends to our other brothers and sisters but Zarron doesn't bring them here so usually, she just sits in her room and reads."

He paused a moment to regain his original train of thought. "I don't see many women I am not related to. And you're so pretty. And I thought only my sisters had such breasts."

She smiled warmly and reached out to brush his cheek, the vixen an shameless sponge for flattery. She caught herself arching her spine, pushing her chest out towards him again. Her loins were on fire.

_ I'm going to fuck this kid. _

A small shake of her head broadcast the conflict, but he had said something important. "You have other siblings?"

The eyes of the young fox widened and shrunk back, his guilt as obvious as her struggle. He started to stand, but she lunged to hold his shoulders, bringing her chest against him and half filling his lap. "Wait!" she said before wrapping her gloved hand around his cock, her fingers barely able to get halfway around it. Joseph froze.

"Trust me, you don't want to go anywhere," she assured with a whisper, and he shrunk back into his seat obediently. "Good boy. Tell me about your sisters. Are there other brothers too?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about any of that," he said, folding his arms in a pout.

"And I'm not supposed to jerk off teenage boys but here we are," she said with her face alongside his, sharing breath and giving him a deliberately slow stroke.

Joseph whimpered at her teasing, looking down at her hand on his cock. "No one has ever touched me there before. Take off your glove?" he asked meekly. She pulled back her head, impressed before she lifted her hand away, presenting it to him. His attention darted between her eyes and hand before unfolding his arms to tug at her fingertips. Yellowish, ivory fur ended at her elbows and the glove exposed her charcoal black-furred, natural socks down to her hands. The vixen watched with a satisfied smile while he stared at her revealed arm, clearly his first time undressing a woman.

He placed the glove gingerly aside as if he might break it, and she returned his hand to his girth, slowly wrapping one finger around then the next until he felt the full warmth of her naked grip. "Brothers and sisters?" she said expectantly, waiting to stroke.

"I don't know how many there are. Only Anastasia and Evangeline live here sometimes. A few other, very young ones have been here briefly when I was younger but not so much anymore. There are a lot of them, I know that. Eva is the oldest." Portia began to stroke as he spoke, sitting up against him, and he gave a delighted shudder in response. "That feels so much better than the glove."

"For me too," she smiled, her right arm still draped around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze with both hands at once. "Lots of brothers and sisters but no parents. How in the world does that work?"

"It works because of Master Zarron. His magic is around life energy. He's very old and powerful," he said, near hypnotized as she stroked him, agile fingers up and down his standing erection.

The vixen looked concerned at his explanation. "A wizard that creates life? That's some kind magic. How does he do it?"

The boy paused and his attention darted to her eyes, his cock, then her muzzle, drawing a triangle. His tail flicked excitedly, bunched up beside him over the arm of the couch. "I'll tell you everything if you put your mouth on it."

Portia gave a small smile and brought her nose to his ear. "You're a strong negotiator." She didn't need to move much for how long he was, instead guiding his cock towards her before leaning over, her breasts resting on his thigh and against his length. She opened her mouth and painted his tapered tip in hot breath. "I'm going to stop if you don't talk," she warned before lowering her head at a painfully slow, teasing pace.

Her mouth and tongue came to his virginal erection, first at the underside of his tip, flattening against it him and dragging down. Her upper lip came next, her jaw starting to open wider for him. Joseph inhaled dramatically at the new sensation and stared with disbelieving eyes. She stopped there and looked back to him, expectantly while her nostrils flared, drinking it in. The strong, pungent scent of his erection intoxicated her, and she wasn't about to stop but there was no sense in giving up her leverage.

Words poured from Joseph in an instant, like a cask violently tapped. "Zarron doesn't create life from scratch. He says nobody can do that. He cultivates life with the aid of magic, like planting seeds in a field. He can't grow them any faster than what is natural, but he's trying. Like me: I was born in the 242nd year of the Qii Era. "

Portia coughed through her nose and paused for a moment, staring down a cock with nearly as many inches as years, the vixen more than twice his age. She had some young lovers but this might be a record. It might not become one of her more proud stories but Joseph continued to spill one of his own.

"Zarron doesn't need to grow them naturally though; he says he doesn't need suffragette mothers."

She lifted off with a wet smack of her lips to free her mouth, muzzle glistening with wetness.

"Surrogate mothers?"

"That's right," he nodded, and she did after, before resuming with a noisy slurp, plunging back down on his shaft. He continued. "He makes eggs out of some spell, like lizards and snakes do. And he can modify them right as they're fertilized, to make adjustments or resolve natural incompatibilities."

Several inches of him were inside her muzzle now, her jaw inelegantly opened around his girth before she pulled up and off again, stealing a hungry breath to speak.

"Modifications? Like how your sister is so busty and you are so hung and handsome? What do you mean by incompatibilities?" He reached out hesitantly for the back of her head before gently pulling her back to his cock. The young man wasn't entirely submissive, it seemed.

The vixen grinned at the corners of her mouth, even as she descended on his length once again. She watched him as she twisted and pumped gently with her head while her ears perked expectantly. She was still listening, even over the wet smacks of her lips.

"I guess so. The few brothers I've met are big as well. I don't know about my other sisters since most are sold as eggs or when they're still kits. Evangeline has really big boobs like you but Anastasia is... Gods, this is hard to concentrate!" She took a moment to pause and look up at him, barely able to stop herself to threaten him. "Right. About incompatibilities. Ummmm... He can combine species who can't naturally breed with each other. And he can make small alterations to the egg for certain, desirable or specific traits."

_ This is still fine _ she assured herself, her attention split between his increasingly far-fetched explanation and the intoxicating, fox cock in her mouth. Sure, he was young but it wasn't really sex and the boy practically sang everything she wanted to know.

A story like this was unlike any she heard and her curiosity would be burning if not for the presence of a more primal fire. A wizard making designer children? Did the boy say he was combining species? Selling them? She would definitely need to investigate but it was difficult to keep asking questions as she fellated him and at the moment, she was more interested in that. The scent of his cock was a drug, and she'd done worse things under lesser influence of smells and substances.

A recollection of one such incident from many years ago that was almost her undoing brought a small, quiet warning to the back of her mind. A transgression with a cousin of a similar age as Joseph had been one of the few sexual encounters she remembered shamefully. Partially because she had sex with her teenage cousin when she was nearly thirty but mostly because it had spiraled out of control into a month-long streak of depravity that made even her blush. It was the first time she considered if her appetite for deviant sex was a fun activity she had a handle on or an actual addiction.

Portia pulled off again with a wet smack of her lips and his length had her muzzle already quite near his face. "You're not an incubus, are you?" she whispered, staring hungrily into young eyes. Sucking his cock hadn't made her any less horny but maybe she could make him pop before she had the chance to use him like she wanted to. At least it would remove the temptation.

Nose to nose, he shook his head, not seeming to know what she meant but there she was, so close and him so emboldened that he leaned in to kiss her. His muzzle met hers, clumsy and inexperienced as she expected from him but there was a sweet sincerity in him lacking from most of the men who wanted her. She kissed him back, laying her chest along his and ran her fingers through his messy hair. Mid-kiss, she took his wrist and slapped his hand on the outer curve of her armored, leather top, the closest he could do to grope the breasts that held so much space between them. Her grip then returned to his erection and she drank in his gasp of delight.

The awareness of her responsibility and the danger of the situation was losing out to her tide of lust, but she managed to pull back, questions too burning to ignore.

"How much does he charge for a child?" This would tell her the kind of customers he had. Perhaps this Zarron was an ethical mage offering children to mixed-species couples who could not naturally reproduce? In that case, he maybe wouldn't care if she were to have sex with his houseboy.

"He starts at one hundred, thousand gold coins," the boy said, moving in for another kiss while his free hand fell to her thigh, moving up the flaps of her skirt.

She allowed his mouth to find hers for a long moment before pushing him gently back by the shoulders. He continued. "A lot more for hybrids or special traits. People spend whole fortunes on children from Zarron." That answered that question: he was running a very lucrative business.

"And the hybrids?"

Joseph trembled, nearly a spasm. "I'm so hard it hurts!"

"You're so fucking big, it's going to hurt me too." Portia tightened her grip and quickened her stroke to one indelicate and purposeful.

His eyes widened, considering her implications and her muzzle dipped in confirmation, brushing his nose with hers. "Tell me more about the hybrids."

"It's what I said: he uses magic to combine species."

"Like Ligers? Mules?"

He shook his head. "He combines what isn't possible: Foxes with wolves, bears, stags, horses..."

It was a difficult concept to grasp, too much for her current state of body and mind. Hybrids were rare in her extensive travels and generally sterile. Often, they were otherwise physically impaired but the relationships which produced them were frowned upon more than the hybrids themselves. Combinations of completely different species? That was impossible.

Outside of The Pale Lands, inter-species pairings and even marriages were fairly common but children only came from surrogacy or adoption. The more responsible, independent and promiscuous adventurers like her preferred different-species-partners for that exact reason. She'd seen a lot of strange things come about from the use of magic but it was hard to imagine the boy could be right about this.

His fingers had crept up her thigh and discovered the lack of undergarments beneath her armored leather. Moments later, they found the burning, wet desire of her feminine folds and he explored them with purpose, stealing back her attention. Their eyes locked again as his digging fingers found entry. Two of them ungracefully pushed inside her, coaxing a shrill, needful cry from the vixen. Joseph's brows were high and his excited smile so boyish, it reminded her of just how much younger he was but when she closed her eyes, he felt like a man.

"What kinds of special traits?"

"All kinds. He can alter the embryos just after conception to be a bit stronger or tougher. Faster. Softer. Bigger." His eyes locked on her chest as he spoke, trying to squeeze it through her armor while he dug inside of her. Her hand reached down over his, turning his wrist gently before guiding his fingers to curl up and back, a deep inhale as he found a nicer spot. "When you're wet like this: That means you're ready, right?" he said hopefully, pushing his hand back and forth at an awkward cadence. "For sex?"

Portia gave a small nod. The voice of reason shouted protest from down a deep well, somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice that kept her alive in dangerous situations and was rarely so distant. The horse on the floor would be out for hours but in the floors above her, a wizard was making altered, hybrid children to sell to the ultra-wealthy. Still, her every thought stole back to the overwhelming urge to feel the teenage fox inside her. "Zarron: he's upstairs, right now?"

Joseph nods. "Yes but his study is in a silence spell so nothing disturbs them. As long as I bring them their meals, they don't come down for days at a time. Sometimes weeks! They won't hear a thing."

It sounded reasonable enough in her state. It would be dangerous to go any further with her mind and body so distracted. She would just clear her head, not waste the moment and no one had to know. If she made sure to not get tied by him, she could work through the lustful haze his presence had put her in and get back to the hero business soon enough. She carried the experience of two decades of an active and usually healthy sex life. There was little the vixen had said no to if it promised to be dignified, pleasurable and consensual. He wouldn't last thirty seconds.

_ I'm going to eat this kid alive. _

Partners as endowed as Joseph couldn't be crawled into like the laps of lesser men. Some skillful maneuvering was required but it was a dance she knew well. He stared into her eyes with his jaw hung open, disbelieving what might be about to happen. They followed her as she rose from the couch, slipping off his fingers while keeping herself facing him until she stood, towering over him with majesty. His entire demeanor became awestruck, and he sat back, wordless and passive. She had control of the situation at least, for how little she had over herself.

Portia lifted a foot up on the couch outside his thigh, still in her boots, then tugged off her remaining glove, tossing it down by the other one. She took a firm, two-handed grip on his marvelously massive obscenity and angled him towards her, past the flaps of her skirt while she leaned her hips forward to meet him. His tapered, canine cock head greeted her with a kiss, his eager wetness meeting hers, and wedging against waiting folds. She stared down at him over the giant shelf of her leather-restrained bosom. "No knotting. Understood?"

He nodded quickly but did he even understand what she meant? He was a teenager with an aching erection and would agree to anything to close the distance between their bodies at this point. She was the adult here and would make sure he didn't.

And so she lurched forward, her eyes locked with his, drinking in the sweet delight of a boy's presumably first penetration. The vixen moved with deliberation but not as careful as she'd be if she wasn't so eager herself and her eyes drank in his sensations through his young face. His jaw transformed from limply hanging to a tense 'oh' as his teenage cock began to spread her open, a finger's length inside her body. Already she felt the beginning of his thickness and she moaned out in delight at the sensation, so much so that she stopped herself from going further.

The vixen couldn't remember the last time that the initial moment of penetration had been so intensely delightful. His size was her challenging ideal and his barely controlled reaction to the loss of his virginity, a delicacy. Most remarkably, the excitement of her body from the first moment she saw had not declined. The magnetism she mistook for the familiarity of blood translated into intensely sexual energy and concentrated right at the joining of their bodies. Her nerves went electric, and she shivered in disbelief and moaned out with a second, rogue wave of pleasure catching her entirely off guard. She had been with an incubus and he had not been this good. His cock teased her with something wonderful, beckoning her closer, and she obliged unquestioningly until she was halfway down him, feeling the straining truth of his girth, wedging open new peaks of intensity.

With so much of him wedged inside her now, she re-positioned. Hands grabbed his shoulders, then pulled herself over him with her other foot quickly lifted up on the cushion. The couch protested with a creak as the bulky fox brought herself to squat in his lap, bashing his muzzle with the hard curve of her bosom and slipping more of him inside her in the process. The slightest motion was leveraged by sheer intensity into groaning delight from her and the boy below her.

No room remained between their torsos, with her enormous chest filling the gap between bodies and the leather breastplate, ensuring that what should be a soft and forgiving sea of flesh did not surrender any space to him. Beneath her, he had fully reclined and his head tilted up, trying to keep from drowning under her breasts. Her pelvis was still high above his lap, bridged by his thick and glistening erection, so much left of it to take.

Portia slowly relaxed her squat, inching him deeper inside her and drinking in the delight on his face as she did while her fingers moved to ruffle his head-fur, pulling his face against her chest. She had discovered some perverse joy in deflowering younger men as she'd grown older, though some of her more experienced partners had suggested she was cruel to distort a young man's expectations as much as she would. Perhaps, but there was an appeal to the vixen of being immortalized in memory, long after she had gone. No one would forget  _ her _ being their first time.

"Can you take off your top? It's kind of in the way," he requested softly, almost apologetically, but she shook her head.

"Sorry kid. This thing takes forever to put back on." She loved for her breasts to be touched but the adoration and worship of them also got her off and that was possible with her breastplate on. Restraining so much soft flesh for the vixen to be a functional adventurer, athlete and combatant was a marvel of engineering on the part of her armor's designer but the ease of getting it on and off had been the compromise. She didn't need them to seduce the boy. She already had what she wanted.

"Grab my ass instead." Joseph obliged, digging under her skirt to find the vixen's strong cheeks between broad hips. Her gluts were thick and sculpted from walking, running and climbing every day of the last two decades.

More of her weight came down on him and she winced as his girth spread her, knowing the all-too-familiar strain of a girthy dick crowding her pelvis and the perverse discomfort the vixen had grown quite addicted to over the years. Under her trembling breath, that magnetic energy stimulated her inner and outer nerves in a way she couldn't remember experiencing before, unforgiving in intensity.

Joseph was mostly passive beneath her, which was better for now. He fit inside her in the most perfect of ways, with a perfect balance of pleasure and strain for her perverse appetite, like he'd had been sculpted to her every ideal of shape and size. A cock alone was rarely such a marvel but his was incredible, beckoning her onward and inviting her to surrender control to him. She had never been so close to orgasm so quickly and that couldn't have been for the skill of her young lover.

Her mind drifted in disbelief as she tried to recall anything near this sensation but fell short. She'd had countless lovers over the years, including some of the most legendary in the land, but she could find no fond memory to compare to this moment, half-stuffed on this over-endowed teenager's cock. She took her relagite medallion in her hand, still hanging from her neck to reassure herself she wasn't under the influence of some charm or spell.

She knew what it felt like to be charmed, and she knew the sick sensations of drugs and poisons but everything about this was good and pure, overwhelming sexual pleasure and joy unlike any she'd known. Wholesome came to mind, a word she never previously associated with the pleasures of the flesh! There was his presence inside her but also his closeness, his hands gripping and kneading the cheeks of her rump like he had never done such a thing. The warmth of his body, his scent, his squeaks of delight and the boyish need on his face. Most men looked at her with sexual desire but Joseph looked like he adored her. She needed more.

Portia eased herself down cautious of too much of him too soon, aware of his length driving up into the depths of her that common men could not reach while her entire insides tingled with the sensation of him. The boy below her, in his first act of assertiveness and impatience, pulled her down into his lap, closing the gap between their bodies and audibly pushing the air inside her out between her folds and his girth.

he vixen gave a yelp of shock and bliss as the boy's thick cock lanced her fully, well up past her pelvis and into the deepest depths her body would allow, tightening the belt of her skirt around her waist. Her body erupted in pleasure, the strain and discomfort of his size entirely tertiary to the explosion of transcendent indulgence. He read clearly her sudden shift of expressions from ecstasy and pain to confusion before her entire posture shifted to electrified bliss. He tensed and shrunk. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

The vixen swung her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, mashing his head against the top of her chest. Her hips bucked and mashed the buried cock inside her with a long, drawn out moan from the flood of ecstasy unleashed by his movement, bellowing from the depths of her lungs and out from her muzzle resting atop his head, between his ears. Her eyes were as giant as his had been not long before, deep in the thrall of a sudden, expectation-shattering orgasm.

The old couch protested as the heavy vixen's shallow but hard woodpecker thrusting impaled herself on his every inch as fast as she could manage, and she clenched him tightly against her.

"You... you're crushing me!" he cried. It was a needed reminder she had a partner and not just a tool for her own pleasure. She relaxed her grip, at least as much as she could relax anything and her hands took him by the arms, letting him catch his breath and look up at her, seeing her shift from confident dominance to be quite drunk with ecstasy. The fox boy licked his lips and his open mouth formed a crooked smile of teenage pride.

"What the fuck are you doing to me, Joseph?" she panted and stared down his muzzle, nose bumping nose as she hammered her hips harder and slower into his, the boy only helping her with his greedy fingers groping her ass cheeks. "This isn't normal," she said with some alarm, but she dove in for a hungry kiss before he could answer.

The young fox only could shrug and shrink between his shoulders before opening his mouth to receive her, his tongue pushed into her muzzle while her lips smeared the lustful stink of his own juices against his muzzle.

The wooden-framed couch, surely decades old and with complaints unheeded, finally broke off a leg, dropping them a half a foot closer to the ground on one side but it didn't leave them off balance enough to stop. The extra force pushed out a new pitch of shriek from the sex-frenzied vixen, breaking their kiss. She rode his lap with unrelenting vigor and violence, digging the frame of the couch loudly into the wooden planks of the floor while her ecstatic cries made it difficult to tell where one orgasm ended and another began.

Joseph rolled her thick cheeks in his palms back and forth and she drove herself down on him faster than gravity could while his bucking hips tried their best to keep up. Inexperienced fingers groped needfully and sometimes indelicately, testing what he could get away with. Fingertips crept across the softness of her cheek to the firmness of where they split and it was almost by accident when one found the cleft of her tight pucker. He watched for her reaction and if she did, it was lost in the vigor of her lust-drunk use of him. Reassured, he tepidly pushed his finger against her clenched muscle, exploring the sensation but the heavy vixen's weight fell hard. His arm offered enough resistance to jam the digit inside of her to the knuckle.

She shrieked in surprise while he yelped then tugged his hand free, shaking it out in pain. "Owww, my finger!"

"Crap! Are you alright?" she said and sunk down into his lap then took his wrist and held it up before her eyes. "It's not broken. Maybe jammed. You're supposed to ask before you stick things up a girl's butt, you know?" Her body was more in control than her guilt and she started again with more subtle grinding, not wanting to let the sensation go.

"Don't stop!" Joseph nodded eagerly, eyes falling to the giant breasts in his face again. "Please don't stop!" She grabbed the couch behind him and pulled herself up to nearly his tip, ready to drop herself when his hands came to her hips and held her still. "Wait!"

Portia sighed. "What now?"

"I want to put my penis in your butt."

The panting vixen sunk herself down enough to see his face over the shelf of her bosom, revealing to him her cocked eyebrow. "That's a pretty kinky request for a kid," she whispered with a rasp in her voice, chest heaving as she caught her breath, the smell of both of their sweat and musk flooding the room.

"I want to put it in your butt," he repeated more firmly, almost pouting and trembling with need. Portia had sat still long enough to snap out of her cyclical frenzy of relentless, debilitating orgasms but was no less aroused or relieved for it. If any man had made her feel such intensity before, the edges had been long since dulled by time. She nearly always enjoyed sex, each encounter a tiny, risque rebellion but this was a new pinnacle of pleasure. Joseph, while young and supposedly inexperienced, was pure perfection, an exquisite lover who darkened the memories of all others. She spent her adult life very sexually active but this was a religious experience. She couldn't imagine what she would say no to at this point.

Towering over him, she nodded and stood slowly on the crooked, broken couch, semi-carefully removing herself from his enormous erection until it escaped with a wet, sucking sound. The vixen wobbled above him on shaky legs before she stepped off onto the rug between the couch and the hearth.

She remembered somewhere, sometime there was potential danger and she turned so she could still see the room. At least she wouldn't be ambushed mid-sodomy with a boy half her age.

Deft fingers slipped to her belt with the muscle-memory of experience and a small, conveniently-hung pouch on it, sticking a single digit inside. Her finger emerged, dripping with viscous oil down to her knuckle and she reached underneath her skirt, applying the lubricant thoroughly to her clenched, anal ring.

Joseph hurried to his feet, his blood-bloated cock swinging before him and she scooped him into her arms for a kiss, assuming for a moment some control again. When it broke, she turned away before moving down onto her hands and knees on the rug beneath them. She was as eager as he was and her tail lifted high and ready over her back. He followed, combing back the flaps of her skirt and presenting her bare, broad rear.

Joseph took a moment to marvel at his good fortune and admire his view. "You're amazing. So beautiful. Your ass is so sexy," he gasped before closing the gap between them and nestling his cock tip against the tiny, tight muscle, glistening with oil that caught the flicker of the firelight. "Big, birthing hips."

Portia gave a small laugh at the comment. "No kids for me. Especially not like this! Steady nooooowwwwwwwww!!!"

It was a moment too late to explain the delicacy of anal sex and the boy, now in the dominant position did exactly what she should have anticipated: he jammed it right in with all the eagerness of a teenager.

"UNNNNNGGGHHHH!" She tensed up, claws digging up handfuls of the rug and her teeth gritted in endurance, counter to experience telling her she should be relaxing her body. Despite the strain, there was something different already, that magnetic connection and his very presence promised another flood of pleasure.

"Holy heck, it's like my fist is squeezing it!" Joseph froze, less than halfway inside her, staring down at her now distended anal ring, his girth prying open the cheeks of her rear. His hands groped over her speared rump with fond but rough admiration. "Are you okay?"

She nodded quickly. While his entry had been ungraceful, the initial shock was already fading to his thick, straining presence occupying her most forbidden of places. With her sexual awakening so motivated by the challenge of herself and the orthodoxy of her upbringing, anal sex was something she had quickly developed an appetite for.

She loved the attention and adoration which came with her lovers' fixation on something other than her breasts and she knew, especially with her larger partners, she was offering something more prudent women would shy away from. Men worshiped her for it. She adored the straining, sometimes even eroticly painful sensation of having a thick cock penetrating her and sunk deep inside her ass. For all the psychological rewards, she suspected her body was better suited for it than most, as she knew few other women with such great fondness for those kinds of depraved activities.

"You're so tight!" the teenage fox said in amazement, starting to push steadily further in.

"Because your dick is so fucking big," she stammered out over her shoulder with a hint of a laugh. Carefully, she lowered herself down on her forearms, hoping for a slightly more comfortable angle for the rest of the giant thing he was sure to follow with. Looking over her bare arms on the coarse rug, she silently lamented the removal of her gloves. "Go slow!"

Joseph obliged with a drawn out moan and eased himself deeper by the inch, looking up between her ass and her face, looking back at him.

"Remember, no knot!"

He nodded and steadily lurched forward to close the gap between him and the braced, shivering vixen. His hands rested on her cheeks, petting with slow comfort as he fed her body more of his cock, his breath staccato and stammering with the sensation.

Portia felt her belt tighten again as he sunk deeper to where only men his length could reach and a heavy groan escaped from deep in her lungs as if he pushed the air out of them. She could hear the sticky viscosity of the lubricant gripping his erection as he crept further into her, never seeming to end. His girth was touching her every, tender inner nerve and teasing at another sublime experience, drawing her mind away from all other concerns. This would going to change things once she had time to really process it. What was so unique about him?

She winced as his hips finally met hers, lurching her body forward, his entire length inside her once again. "Are you alright?" he reached up and held her shoulder, looking into her eyes. That adoration again! She was breathless with strain but gave a quick and shallow nod. There was a warmth with the familiar, erotic discomfort of him buried in her and an intoxicating sweetness to his momentary gesture. She leaned her head aside, brushing her cheek against the back of his hand, before she drew in a deep inhale and found her breath.

"Go ahead, Joseph. Fuck my ass."

Teenage eyes lit up in a way that betrayed his lack of maturity and his hips started to awkwardly saw back and forth with his first time being in control but it didn't take any instructions though for him to figure out what felt good about sodomizing the busty vixen before him.

The strain of taking him anally was not going away, nor did she want it to. There was a challenge for her to prove herself against and his intrusion invigorated her with the same kind of aliveness she felt charging into battle, a lack of security and certainty that flooded her with adrenaline.

The young fox studied her strain and kept his attention at her face to be sure we wasn't going too fast or too hard but only saw hungry and encouraging eyes staring back at him, almost challenging him for more.

He found his rhythm, not frenetic and eager like hers had been but at a marching pace, allowing him to draw his cock far back from her then push into her again, a relentless piston of flesh wedging open her asshole. He was groaning with every thrust and her following each with a straining, excited moan. Between some could be heard the creak of her belt, moving against her abdomen. His hands wandered over her body, fur and leather armor alike, his touch both greedy and admiring.

"Does this actually feel good?!"

Portia gave a small laugh and nodded. "This ass was built for butt fucking, especially by a hung stud like you." She was coherent enough to think to flatter him in more cerebral ways than cumming on his cock and she shivered, the sensations of his anal penetration accumulating towards another, deep orgasm at her core. A hand moved down to prop herself up on her forearm while her other hand reached between the flaps of her skirt, finding her vixenhood demanding attention once again.

Encouraged, he started thrusting harder still, slamming herself into her with conviction, fur muffling the blunt collision of young hips to thick rump. "Sex was amazing but this... I think I like this even more!" he groaned, shaking her crookedly supported upper body as it wobbled on one arm. He sounded close and she needed to

"Anal sex is still sex, Joseph!"

He took a hold of her ponytail and tugged gently, testing for her approval before giving a harder pull. She yelped and her body arched up like the figurehead of a ship, almost upright on her knees, her hands clear of the ground and her tail pinched between them.

The intensity of his demeanor and shift in position brought the flood she'd been waiting for and deep inside her, everything quivered and shook from her gut to her fingertips with another intense orgasm but this one came from her core. His moves had been boyish but his closeness and touch were overwhelming with that familiar attraction and Portia now orgasmed anally from it. Her jaw fell open and she moaned louder than before, a shrillness boasting to its intensity and her shock that it happened at all. Anal sex was about pleasure and challenge for her and actually reaching a climax from the act was an especially rare surprise.

With her back arched sharply, she pushed herself into Joseph hard enough to threaten his balance. She slapped her hand to one, giant breast, groping the stiff leather protecting them while her other hand scrubbed violently under her skirt, trying to cum even while she already was.

"You're real proud of your boobs, aren't you?" He gave a trembling pant, nosing her ear and she nodded quickly, any attempt to speak momentarily incoherent.

"That's so hot. Anastasia always acts like she's embarrassed of hers but you're so strong and sexy. I'm so lucky!" With her spine against his chest, she twisted enough to kiss him again for a long, hungry interruption to his rhythm. When they broke, her eyes remained lustfully on his, the young man's energy nearly boiling over with release.

Nothing he had attempted thus far had reached her limits and her rough eagerness seemed to be giving him confidence. His hips bucked hard and unannounced, knocking her forward to land on one arm again, her other hand fully committed to pleasuring herself. His grip on her ponytail tugged the tie of it right off and her long, straight, golden brown hair spilled free, out on her back and over her shoulders.

Panting with lust-maddened breath, Joseph hastily unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, revealing spotted, black marks across his toned, white furred chest. He was clearly trying not to tear it but desperate for relief from the overwhelming heat, a few stitches still popped. He drew back then and rammed himself into her with his full weight behind him. She half-gasped and half-screamed, furiously rubbing herself until she came to climax yet again. How many had there been? It was normal for her to orgasm once with a lover but with Joseph inside her, it was so easy to keep cumming, like he'd found some secret to it. From another man, his roughness might warrant intervention but for now she was incredibly aroused by him, a shy butterfly wrestling violently free of it's cocoon. Overwhelmed from so many sensations at once, she was all but oblivious to the painful friction of her forearm on the rug that her fur only half protected her from.

Joseph gritted his teeth and pulled back then rammed again like he had a running start, having enough force to knock her off the balance of her arm and her face fell to the wood plank floor beyond the edge of rug, her leather-wrapped chest keeping her full weight from being born by her cheek. His eager fingers dug into the waistband of her skirt, pulling it like a handle and bringing her back to meet him, collapsing her knees to tuck under her, pushing up against the bottoms of her breasts. Her arms moved out to her sides, holding the outside of her chest, leaving her balled up and fetal before him.

With her posture small and beneath him, her rear was angled up and her face was half buried under a mess of hair. He threw his entire weight at her again and again with manic force and desperation, ramming himself roughly inside her to his every last inch.

With her body and nerves scrambled and exhausted from the relentlessness of world-shaking ecstasy, she was finally content enough to curl up and let him finish. She barely had the composure to not pour out limp over the rug like spilled water but the teen fox's frenzied sodomy kept her muscles braced and tensed. Even with such roughness, he still felt amazing inside her, even as she was sure to be sore in the aftermath.

"Hnnnghhhh!"

Joseph slammed his entire weight down on her at one last, triumphant time, His body draping over her fully, hips convulsing as if they could push his length any deeper within her. He was hilted entirely when his knot swelled up, drawing a shocked cry of discomfort at a new, even thicker girth that pushed her insides out and brought pressure against the inside of her anal ring, locking his every inch within her.

His inevitable, hot flood of vulpine semen unleashed, her body holding him so tightly she could feel it surge down his length to gush out from his tip, somewhere deep in her abdomen, belching all the way up her to her intestines from his tight scrotum. Another followed, then another, threatening to cramp the sweating, heaving mass of vixen crumpled up beneath the squirming young man. Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she panted hard, in shock at the entire experience.

He had knotted her and she couldn't imagine being fully satisfied with any other outcome. At the moment, the world and her worries had melted away. A teenage fox with boyish charm and a primal magnetism had just put to shame twenty year's worth of lovers. It was strangely peaceful to be completely disarmed and at his mercy while his trembling finger moved over her body, grateful for every touch.

"I love..."

Her stomach sank as he started to speak. Is this what that feeling was? Had the hopeless romantics been right all along? In all her travels, she had never known a connection so instantly and passionately charged. Never had she experienced sexual pleasure so easily or with such incredible intensity. Never had a man made her lose all sense and control. Would it be so bad if he said those words? Had she just found a mate? A boy young enough to be her son?

Joseph stammered mid-sentence, catching himself as the rest escaped as just air. She reached back to hold his bare hip and he melted on top of her, his head rested alongside hers to share breath. Their eyes locked together as securely as his knot held inside her, in the tranquil aftermath of a tempest of ecstasy. A furious storm that had crashed into her every, fond, sexual memory and drowned them all.

_ To Be Continued... _

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snag in the plan.

#  **Pairs of Pumpkins Season 1 Episode 1:**

#  **Family Ties (Part 3)**

_ By Jess Faulks _

Portia's voice of reason finally climbed out of a deep hole that desire had dug, scalding her recklessness and irresponsibility. A long developed confidence and pride in herself had helped her to grow past the feelings of shame and guilt she'd known so well as a child but this moment was an impossible thing to rationalize, not for some prudish judgement but as a tactical mistake. An unconscious brute of a horse lay on the floor, a wizard upstairs made unnatural children with magic and she was downstairs with one of them tied inside her by a grapefruit-sized knot when she should have been doing her job. This was something worth regretting, she admitted in the stillness of the moment but her body wouldn't yet return total control after a relentless barrage of orgasms like she'd never experienced. Reckless or not, the sex had been paradigm-shifting. Her nerves buzzed like she was hit by lightning and her blood raced with unparalleled excitement. Hopefully the young man could be convinced to come with her, when all this was done. He wouldn't be much good on the road but he would make up for that at camp every night and probably most mornings too. It was an unusual thing for her to consider bringing along a liability just for the sex when she'd have no trouble finding a lover in the next town but the next town wouldn't have someone like this.

_He's_ _a kid!_

A deflated hiss escaped her muzzle and she recalled the handful of moments which had any competition for this new low. He wasn't too young to be doing this, just too young to have done it with her. Her conscience found that easier to reconcile than the act of endangering her own life and possibly others for her lust but the attraction had been so intense and overwhelming. And then she heard something else. Laughing?

"Now this... This is precious."

They were no longer alone and the vixen adventuress tensed with a surge of adrenaline. Who said that? Who was with them? Her entire vision was obscured by her golden brown hair, pulled loose from her ponytail by the teenager who had so eagerly sodomized her.

Hastily, she brushed her hair from her eyes and pushed up on her rug burned arm, revealing a matching scrape on her cheek from the hardwood floor. Her instinct to jump to her feet were tempered by the entire weight of the young man on her back and the attempt to move made her wince, reminding how deep inside her he was.

The room was no longer empty. They were joined at some point while she was lost in bliss and at the base of the stairwell stood three figures: an aged raccoon in billowy, pink robes, flanked by what must be Joseph's sisters: two uncannily familiar, vulpine shapes with sharp-ears and impossibly abundant busts. All three watched Portia and Joseph with disbelief but only the man was laughing.

The most eye-catching of the three must have been spotted from the road and triggered this whole chain of events. It was obvious enough at a glance why she stood out. A lovely fox with sky-blue eyes and a bob of reddish-orange hair, the rest of her visible fur very much matching the vixen adventuress'. As reported, she was impossibly huge in the size of her breasts, unlike anything she had ever seen since her childhood. This girl was as endowed as Portia's own mother, the only woman she knew previously to be bustier than herself. For her own remarkable bust, Portia had been diluted by her late father's outsider blood and was much smaller than her mother, whom she had otherwise inherited most of her appearance from. This teenage girl had not been so lucky and the sight of her recalled every burden of her own chest amplified. It made her recall every misconception people had about her: how could she run or even fully move her arms? How was her back supporting all that weight?

The remarkable vixen's ivory body fur was unusually long and thick, similar to dog breeds she'd met in other, colder climates and it only added to her already bulky visage. She wore a purple, silk robe that would reach the ankles of another woman her height but mid-thigh on her thanks to her gigantic chest in near defiance of gravity, yet still down past her waist and double the width as her torso. It would take the full length of one of her forearms again, for her hands to ever meet around them at their widest dimension. They must have been nearly half of her weight but somehow she could keep herself upright.

The second vixen stood, uncannier still. Her hair was midnight black, wavey and unkept as if it were usually restrained during the daylight hours. Except for the hair and her trembling, azure eyes, she was a near-mirror image of Portia some twenty years before, from the charcoal-colored sock pattern on her forearms and calves to the freckles down her cheeks and neck, down to a sizable chest that was a more pert version of her own. Only the ivory parts of her fur differed by a few, subtle shades. She wore a long, red nightshirt, looking fresh from sleep.

Between them, the pink-robed raccoon stood with slouched posture and a delighted, scoundrel's grin. Far shorter than either of girls, the signature colors of his species had aged into a lighter gray and darker one. His triangular face was accented at three corners by scraggly whiskers and a sharp, long goatee which he stroked as he started to speak. "Nice to see you and your magnificent breasts again, Portia Vasiljev. After all these years."

Her jaw dropped. Her blood froze. How did he know? She had never told anyone since she'd run away.

"Portia?" Joseph said with some surprise, failing entirely to read the situation. "You're Portia? I've heard of you on our travels. People said my sister..."

"Not now, Joseph," the vixen snapped out of it and sternly scolded over her shoulder, only to wince as his shrinking posture tugged at her insides with that hard ball at the base of his cock because he had knotted her, just as she should have expected. She froze for a long moment before deflating with a long, soft sign.

_ Idiot. _

"Do I know you?" Portia scowled with a flare of her nostrils. She needed to buy as much time as possible and this entire situation was only getting weirder.

"Is that her, Zarron?!"

After two decades of adventure, the vixen could read a group at a glance and of the three, it was the black-haired fox who glared like she wanted blood. She stepped forward with a snarl and fiery eyes but the raccoon swung a hand up with an audible crinkle of his robe and dragged his fingers over her eyes.

"Sleep."

The wizard commanded and the girl's body obeyed, falling limp only to be caught and held up by him, the raccoon clearly struggling with her weight. "Help?" he turned to the massive-chested redhead and she did her best to awkwardly oblige around her impairment, trying to keep a grip long enough to ease the other vixen to the ground. With her still hunched over her apparent sister, the raccoon reached down to her face and repeated: "Sleep." Already hunched low, she fell safely forward into the soft bosom of her unconscious doppleganger.

"There," he said, bringing himself upright over the pair of sleeping vixens. "Time for the adults to talk," he looked back to her with a song in his voice. 'You can call me... Zarron," he declared, as if that was a name she might already know.

"I figured you were Zarron," Portia hissed back. "I asked if I know you."

The raccoon's smug smile widened. "No Princess Vasiljev, you wouldn't remember me but we met the night you ran away from Snowcourt."

"I think I would remember that."

"I think you wouldn't. I made sure you wouldn't. But I harbored you for a short time. I helped you. I helped you escape and I helped relieve you of your great burden."

"My burden?"

"The burden of your fate as Princess and eventually, Queen: to carry on your family's legacy. To breed the next generation of royal oppressors."

"You're going to have to explain a little better."

"Your burden to bear more of your incredibly potent bloodline." She gave an irritated, expectant shrug. "Your eggs, Princess: I took them." He paused and his smile melted for a moment. "Non-invasively, I assure you," he added quickly

"You took... my eggs?" The story she had fellated Joseph for churned through her mind with too many gears spinning to make sense of it all immediately. He could not create life; only incubate it. Dread loomed around her as possible conclusions began to form. "I don't menstruate. I'm barren and I've always been."

"Maybe you remember wishing as a teen to never, ever have children? Wishing so intensely to the universe for your independence that it piqued the attention of parties who could... help."

His casual exposure of her royal lineage to the room had an effect that she was usually better at hiding. It made him visibly bolder. "I seem to recall your responsibility to breed the next batch of Kings and Queens had a lot to do with your running away. You said it with such resolve that I suspect you never changed your mind about having children?"

"I did not."

"And I was happy to oblige your wish! You're lucky I was the one to find you and help. Usually these kinds of deals don't have such mutually beneficial consequences."

"I'm barren. Always have been." Only afterwards did she realize she'd already said that.

"You're barren because I made you that way, Princess. And to make sure it never came back to bother either of us, I wiped your mind of all related memories. You're a curious girl and we both know you'd go chasing any mysteries so I made sure there was nothing to chase. I am a life wizard and contrary to religious superstitions about the soul, life magic can also include domain over the mind. It was trivial to pluck away your memories compared to the other marvels I've achieved."

She trembled, unsure how to react. There was power in her secrets. How did he know them all?

"The night you ran away, Princess: how do you remember it?"

Portia couldn't help but recall at his suggestion, the plan she formed for months from a desire she had for years. He was right about her wish: she strongly rejected the idea of being a mother as much as being a Queen in her fierce need for independence and that had barely tempered in the many years since. Her escape was only weeks before her eighteenth birthday, upon when an arranged marriage would happen and after which offspring would soon be expected. At the culmination of an elaborate escape plan, she stole herself away in the night to seek a life of freedom and adventure.

She remembered preparing and packing in a way which had confirmed to herself she had a mind for strategy that would be wasted on courtly life, at least as she had understood back then. She had studied the shifts and patterns of the City's Nightwatch, so she would be able to slip through the gaps. She had prepared a month's worth of provisions, all the gear it would take to survive the Pale Lands eternal winter and smeltable gold enough to buy herself passage on a ship to the mainland and more.

She recalled climbing over the fortress walls on a rope made from linens and traversing the snowy forests alone in the long night. She remembered the ship. There were gaps. The forest to the ship. Where had she caught the ship from?

There were only three major ports into the natural fortress of The Pale Lands and two of them were near the capital city. Criulezia was the closest but it was purely a Naval Port. Obrenova was further but it had commercial ships and would be much easier to buy passage off the island from. Samyi, in the south where she'd arrived from, was the biggest harbor of the Queendom but too far from Snowcourt to be an escape option: the entire country would have mobilized to find her before she could've gotten there.

Which one had she escaped from? Criulezia or Obrenova? She couldn't remember a thing from either one of the seaside cities.

The vixen failed to hide her confusion and Zarron grinned wider still. "You're a real hero these days, Portia  _ Pridemoon _ ." He knew her adopted name. "I know I should be wary of you but you didn't always warrant such renown for your tenacity and skill! Certainly not when you were seventeen years old. Smart and clever, to be sure but not enough to evade the entire Kingdom's worth of scouts and trackers your parents sent to find you!" the raccoon raised his voice with a bellowing laugh. "I hid you right here, in this very house. I put you on that ship in Samyi and made sure the crew wouldn't lay a hand on you. I'm the reason you ever broke free of the life you hated so much, Portia. All it cost you was something you never wanted anyway!" The raccoon stepped over the sleeping vixens, slowly approaching the vixen and her young lover.

"All that for some eggs? Surely there are fertile women who would give them up for a lot less trouble."

" _ Your _ eggs, Portia!  _ Your _ bloodline! There's so much more than any of you remember. All those huge chests and cocks in Snowcourt, wrapped up in ridiculous clothes to hide your shame. Do you see girls like you anywhere else in this land, with your giant, pumpkin breasts that the boys must love so much?"

"Northern girls..."

" _ Royal _ Northern Girls, Portia! You've been around long enough to know you're special. And I imagine it's been long enough away from home to forget that it's not just you. You Vasiljevs are premium stock! Brains, beauty, breasts, blood. I suspected there was something exceptional there that would be receptive to my magic and was I ever right!" "Now I breed some of the most magnificent children the world has ever seen. The splendor of one like my beautiful bride-to-be, Evangeline here," he gestured to the unconscious, black-haired teenager. "Your firstborn daughter, Princess Evangeline."

Portia's mouth hung open but that wasn't why it was so dry. Her stomach sunk and threatened to fall against the teenage erection not far below it. Evangeline appeared nearly identical to her. Everything was caving in. If he spoke the truth, he had saved her. Her claws dug into the hardwood floor. She wished they were in his throat.

"Or, with a bit of in vitro magic, your second daughter and my apprentice, Anastasia here," The raccoon motioned back to the crumpled up redhead resting atop Evangeline, before he turned his attention back to Portia. He raised his cupped hand to his muzzle in a mock whisper. "It was the first time I tried manipulating the fertilized egg and I made some miscalculations." He shrugged with self-satisfied mischief and took another step towards them.

Joseph was frozen and silent, barely more than a backpack full of rocks except for his vulpine cock locked deep inside her, his knot unrelenting despite the unraveling of the moment.

"I haven't counted the ledger in years so I don't know exactly how many I've made since these two. Numbers have never been my main concern but we're well into the hundreds. Maybe over a thousand? There have been a lot. Boys and girls, twins, triplets, quadruplets and more. Foxes and hybrids alike. Vasiljev blood and my alterations command prices you wouldn't believe to people who can't have kits of their own. Every infertile, mixed species or same sex couple with money? I offer them the best children money can buy.

"Whether completely natural like Evangeline or modified, like Anastasia, your bloodline never fails to impress. Even with a simple houseboy that I made just to maintain the manor, like Joseph there."

Portia shivered. Her sweat turned to ice under her fur, despite the heat of the room. The blood of her extremities was trying desperately to flee in terror from what he was about to say. Her Stomach turned end over end and her head contracted back into her neck, ready to gag and the inevitable declaration. Her tail tried to tuck between her legs but was pinned against her back by the teenager she was mounted by.

_ "Your son, Joseph." _

Portia's eyes trembled, her entire body racked with despair and disgust but her honed senses kept her from losing control entirely. She lay there, fuming as he watched intently, savoring her reaction until she gradually boiled over with rage.

"You can't blame me for this part!" Zarron raised his palms, barely restraining his laughter but he stopped his advance, his smile melting.

With a surprising burst of strength, she pushed up off the ground despite the weight of her own son on top of and inside her. Joseph perked to full alertness, his arms latching around her neck and shoulders for support before things got painful for the both of them. The raccoon's smugness fell right off his face at the discovery that the young man didn't have her completely immobilized.

Portia drew a dagger from a sheath stitched to her armor as she rose to her feet faster than the raccoon had expected but far slower than she would have, unencumbered. That would have let her reach him in time.

Zarron fled back to the unconscious vixen sisters, demonstrating a lack of both dexterity and courage. He stepped behind them and squatted for safety before putting a hand on each of them and blurting out a quick incantation of magical nonsense before the trio of them vanished in a puff of bluish, smoke, leaving Portia standing with Joseph hanging from her shoulders.

It was the two of them and the stallion again, still unconscious, oblivious to all events and revelations of the room. A loud exhale burst from her lungs and she leaned herself against a wall, becoming more aware of the weight she was carrying. She lowered herself enough into a squat for Joseph's feet to reach the floor.

Portia Pridemoon, Princess-in-exile, brave adventuress and proudly not beholden to any man, woman, family or destiny, was actually a Mother to hundreds of children. From her estimation of the age of the two girls, she had been for quite some time. Perhaps even most of her free life.

It wasn't clear which sensation made her want to tear herself apart more: that someone had made her a mother, her son's massive cock knotted inside her or that she might've just had  _ the best sex of her life with him. _

Her stomach churned, preparing to vomit. The guilt hit her like waves and threatened to knock her over but she hung on to reason to keep from collapsing into catatonia. She didn't know. How could she? She had just been trying to help.

Her sons and daughters had been sold off to the kinds of people who bought children from an unscrupulous wizard and surely, at least some of them would need her aid but that momentary light of purpose wasn't enough to burn in the dark, sickness of her guilt. Heavy eyelids closed and the vixen shut down completely for a moment, sliding down the wall and hoping to wake to a different reality. Joseph sniffed softly in her ear, holding back tears as he squeezed her close, his erection shifting uncomfortably deep inside her torso.

An electricity surged through the room and a wave of hot air washing over her, alerting her again. Zarron reappeared in the room, standing by the front door, next to the stallion and all the sickness and disgust was instantly purged by a second rush of adrenaline. Another chance!

Zarron was on edge and he bent down quickly to lay a hand on the stallion's heavy shoulder. "I need him too." Portia's grip found the dagger again and wound up to throw it.

"I'll be back for the boy," he blurted out before repeating the incantation. Both raccoon and horse disappeared with the blade mid-flight and it hit the wall behind where his head had been, before clanking ineffectively to the ground.

"How is he doing that?!" Portia glanced over her shoulder and Joseph pointed to the ceiling, where a magic seal had been carved into it, above where Zarron had appeared. She had completely missed it.

"He has three of them around the house. They let him easily teleport back here from anywhere," he said before taking a deep breath. "But nobody knows this place better than me. You can break them all!"

"Hold on to me," the vixen commanded and resolved herself. Joseph obliged and swung his arms around her neck before she staggered to a nearby table and grabbed a chair then dragged it beneath the circle, feeling his length stir her insides with every motion. She lifted a leg on the seat of it then carefully stepped up, lifting the both of them precariously and wincing as she felt his weight tugging at his knot.

Balanced precariously on the chair, Portia fetched the relagite medallion again from her neck and quickly scratched a break in the painted circle. A crackle and puff of smoke confirmed her success, leaving the seal open and inert. "Where are the others?"

"Upstairs!" Over her shoulder, his arm unrolled towards the staircase. "Please hurry, he said he's going to come back for me! He talked like he helped you but believe me: he is a bad person! Don't let him take me, Mother!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Sorry Mother!"

Portia jumped down from the chair and grunted as the whole weight of him tugged his knotted cock against the inside of her clenching pucker. She took him by the hands and adjusted them from around her neck to under her arms, bringing his fingers together to lock at the top of her cleavage. "Joseph! Hold on to me!"

She squatted deeply then launched herself, running for the stairs and up them, each step pushing him further up inside her before every footfall tugged him back down in weighted, accidental thrusts. She gritted her teeth and powered through as the smaller fox buried his head in her back, trying not to make any noises.

"I'm sorry, about all this," Joseph said over tense, labored breathing, moving to rest his muzzle on her shoulder. "I swear, I had no idea."

"Neither of us did, Joseph. It was an accident. Just point out the way." At the landing of the first staircase she stopped and steadied herself against the wall, panting from the exertion of his weight and his presence inside her. She shook her head to clear the loose hair from her face. "How much further?"

"Four more flights!" he said to a deflating sigh from the vixen that carried him. "His bedchamber is on the fifth floor but the study is on the fourth. Zarron has a seal there too."

She was sweating again and the sick coolness gave way to hot flesh, from the extra weight but the news of Joseph's relation didn't change her body's reaction to his closeness or penetration. He didn't feel any different inside her from he had when he'd had her rethinking her standards for all ecstasy and it turned her stomach as much as it soaked her sex with a second wave of arousal.

The imminent danger of the moment saved her from dwelling on the thoughts and sensations. As long as Zarron could reappear at will, they weren't safe and she looked up to the next flight, gritted her teeth then launched towards it. Every step felt heavier than the last, bearing Joseph's weight on her back and within her.

The young fox's erection had never fully subsided but two flights up, he was bigger again and he hadn't been this hard since he'd ejaculated the thick load she now carried in her intestines. He had thickened and straightened out, claiming even more space inside her and she felt it with every slight movement of her spine. His locked fingers around her chest were hanging on to the keyhole vent in her breastplate, fingertips against the fur of her cleavage.

She stopped at the second landing for another moment, brushing back her hair again, knowing to pace herself with the effort. Joseph was much smaller in stature than her but he certainly wasn't light and for all her strength, he was a lot of extra weight to bear.

"I'm actually kind of happy."

She whipped her head back to look at him. "Happy?!"

"I never had a mother. Zarron told us you abandoned us but Anastasia and I never really believed him."

"Well congratulations, Joseph. You met your mom and you're fucking her," she grumbled.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I guess we're not supposed to do that?"

"Did Zarron really not teach you that?"

"I had nannies, mostly. And often, no one. Zarron really only gave me instructions."

Portia gave a long sigh. "I'm the adult here. I should have known better. But no, sons aren't supposed to fuck their mothers and mothers aren't supposed to fuck their sons."

"Why not?"

She paused a moment and puffed out an annoyed breath. "I don't know, Joseph. Society has a lot of stupid rules but that 'not having sex your immediate family' always seemed like a good one to me. Incest can produce deformed and mutated children."

"But you can't have children. Both you and Zarron said that."

"Joseph, not every rule is a bad rule. Mothers and sons shouldn't have sex."

The teen fox hesitated before he replied. "You're so beautiful though. I don't think my body would react any differently when I saw you, if you'd told me you were my mother first. I bet all your sons are going to react the same way."

_ All your sons. _ It sent a chill down her spine.  _ Focus, Portia. _ "Hang on."

She practically threw the both of them up the next flight, her boot steps harder and heavier on the stone stairs. Joseph winced as he bounced on her back and tightened his grip around her while her free hair flew about wildly, weighted with the dampness of sweat.

At the third landing, she took another moment to rest and leaned back against a wall, pushing the young fox more firmly against her and inside her, a gasp escaping from both of them at once. Three flights of shallow, bobbing sodomy from the remarkable lover who'd turned out to be her son and her body was entirely ready for a second round, flushing with heat and wetness, agnostic to what stimulated her. Her skin was on fire, eager to get out of her clothes. The danger was dulled by primal need and it was an effort of will that she lunged for the fourth set of stairs, drenched in sweat and gasping, climbing on all fours on the final few steps until the landing opened up into a hallway.

After crawling past the top step, she half collapsed against the wall, catching them on her arm while Joseph planted his feet for a moment to relieve his knot of his weight. "The study is that door at the end of the hall," he pointed over her shoulder and she nodded, nearly out of breath. They were near the seals. This was almost over.

"He mentioned a ledger. With all the children. Where?"

"It's in the study, right there!"

"Got it." Portia scooped up Joseph's thighs around her before pulled them back to her feet and surged forward. Closing in on the door, she saw it was marked with another ward, likely of some kind of protection. She readied the relagite medallion before she crashed the both of them against the door. Violently, she scratched it off until the seal snapped in another crackle of smoke. She replaced the charm clumsily around her neck then grabbed the knob and with a sharp tug, swung it open with their combined weight.

Zarron's study was cleaner than she'd expected. There was no thick layers of dust on the towering bookshelves lining one of the room's walls or the shelves of jars, potions, spell components and other curios, both common and macabre along the opposite wall. There were several workbenches, one clean, one seemingly for mixing liquids and a third with small hand tools scattered about it. There was a smaller desk and stool as well as an overstuffed chair and a sofa.

"There's the seal, Mother," Joseph pointed to the far end of the room and she nodded, pushing out of the doorframe and deeper into the room. Once clear of the workbenches, a large, magic circle was exposed in a corner with plenty of open space around it, looking like the markings that had been above the entryway. "That's it!" The revelation was enough to remind her of the danger they were in and brought a welcome focus.

She ran and dropped into a slide to reach it, the knees of her boots well-padded for such athleticism. She fumbled to remove her necklace again then scraped out a gap in the seal until it crackled out in more satisfying, blue smoke. She took a moment to catch her breath, hunching over the broken seal.

"Are they in here? My eggs? The children?" she huffed with exhaustion and discomfort, looking over her shoulder at Joseph but he who shook his head.

"He has a place on the mainland where he actually does the breeding but I don't know how to find it. We only teleported there and I haven't been since I was a kid. I know it's somewhere warmer than here ."

She cursed. "Everywhere is warmer than here. Where's the ledger?"

"Stand up and I'll guide you."

She obliged after taking a moment to collect herself then carefully stood for both of them, Joseph pushing his feet off the ground to help. He guided her to the bookshelf and after some impatient scanning, to a thick, hand-bound tome, labeled at the binding: ' _ The Breeding Record of Princess Portia Vasiljev,' _ it casually read, letters embossed into the leather and painted in gold. She tugged the book carefully out then carried it over to the desk, which she leaned for support, catching her breath once more. He was so hard inside her. She opened to the first page before she paused and looked back. "Joseph, I think I need to sit down for this."

He nodded and she reached back to hold his thighs, carefully lowering his rump to the stool then bringing her weight down on him and it, the wood creaking along with their combined groans as Joseph's cock sunk inside her fully.

Her breathing was tight and short for a moment with strain and struggling control. "Gods, you've got a big dick."

"Sorry, Mother."

"Don't be sorry. That's my fault, apparently." She steadied herself by adjusting her legs, wide around the seat then turned to the first, full page of what appeared to be an accounting ledger of critical information. The first entry dated less than a year after she'd run away from Snowcourt, under the name "Evangeline." Zarron had said that name, for the dark-haired daughter she met downstairs. There was a field for her gender and past it , one for 'Father' described as "donor 01: Arctic Fox." 'Intention' was the next column, which read 'test/wife?' Lastly, it listed her birthday, appearing to be added in a different session, suggesting the entries were being written around whenever had been the moment of conception.

Anastasia was next, dated a few weeks later. She had the same father, an intention listed as 'magnificent breasted apprentice' but an entry had been added for Alterations, under which read: 'Enhanced bosom and intelligence.'

The next entry was longer, with the name of 'Sanna.' Her birthday was another few weeks after Evangeline's and under father the donor read: 'Zarron.'

"Sanna was the first hybrid? So she's half fox and half raccoon?"

"I've never met her but that sounds right. They all look like foxes like us but some have horse manes, antlers or cat claws, depending on what they're mixed with. His magic is very potent."

She shook her head slowly then kept reading, shifting in her seat and trying to stay focused. She wasn't used to concentrating with a knotted cock inside her, let along the lingering disgust of the terrible revelation. The 'Intention' field was more verbose here: 'daughter and heir. Intelligent, athletic, attractive.' Under 'donor' a new entry had been added: 'Buyer' and beside it read: 'Lord Truxton,' which was a name she recognized. He was a famously wealthy but long deceased, a raccoon builder of warships in the western reaches of the land.

After Sanna's birthday was another new entry: Price.

Lord Truxton had paid two hundred, thousand gold for Sanna, a base price plus a 100% 'hybrid' surcharge. Somewhere around that would be the cost of one of his warships and it was a staggering sum to consider. Seeing her birthday and remembering what she heard of him, he must have died not long after but the ledger noted nothing of it.

Another hybrid was next on the list: 'Anya' listed as having two donors. One was the same arctic fox as Evangeline and Anastasia and the other, a bear named Wilhelm Wozak, also as the buyer. This name was another she recognized; an adventurer she had heard of, early in her career. The price was the same as Sanna's, with the same justification: hybrid.

Morbidly curious, she flipped page after page, several children documented on each one. Most were foxes but there were other hybrids, seemingly for purposes of family, legacy, breeding with a different species or other obvious, desirable traits: a cheetah for enhanced speed or a wolverine for their resilience. Many of them had been bred with wolves which Zarron only added a 50% surcharge for, and seemed meant for martial use as bodyguards and warriors. Occasionally there were more exotic combinations like minks and horses, either for intended physical labor, strength or just finery of coat. Some had up to three fathers listed when the intention was to maximize certain qualities.

A number of longer entries started to appear with notes on twins, triplets and beyond, as Zarron had figured out how to split her eggs multiple ways and offering a small discount to the customer for his savings. It seemed he was trying to see how many he could get from a single egg.

Alterations became more frequent by the birthdays that put them at sixteen and younger: enhanced strength, fast healing, slowed aging, extreme fertility and other enhanced sexual traits. Buyers were often also the donors, men looking for children of their own and she recognized quite a few of the names as some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the kingdom. In some cases, she was a few years away from likely noticing some very familiar, public figures.

Some pages in, a peculiar edit caught her eye: a Sex of 'Male' crossed out, with '???' written beside it in newer ink. The entry was for twins, named Tati and Titian, both with the same birthday. No buyer was listed but under father she recognized the name and gagged:

‘Donor: Bjorn Vasiljev (stolen sample.)’

She shrunk slightly, fighting the urge to vomit again. "That's my brother." Bjorn was the third born of Queen Beatrice, after her and the eldest brother, Alexi. There must be a story to how sperm could be stolen from a Prince but this particular volume did not concern itself with such details.

Portia stopped and braced her hands against the desk, gagging openly while Joseph tried to stay still, under her weight. His hands moved to her shoulders, squeezing them. "I have children... with my own brother. That sick fuck." She reached out with a shaky hand to flip a chunk of pages, then another, finding each one filled. "There are hundreds of them. I have hundreds of children. Heirs, slaves, soldiers, breeders. I know some of these buyers. Some of them are monsters. They're going to need my help."

"Mother, we still have one more seal to go, upstairs, in the bedroom. Zarron might be back already!"

She nodded and slammed the book closed then tucked it under her arm. "I'm going to need this." She had caught her breath by now and lifted them both from her seat with a grunt, then steered them toward the door, building up speed until they were out in the hallway and running up the last flight of stairs. Joseph held on tight, bobbing inside her, thankfully half-soft again.

"There's the bedroom!" he said and trained his finger on a door as they reached the final landing. "Be careful, mother. He's tricky!"

Portia nodded, patting herself down for a weapon. One mace, two tomahawks and one dagger were all downstairs now and she ducked down to fetch a stiletto from her boot when the blowgun in her belt poked her breast. She grinned and untucked it, then loaded it with the final sleep dart. "Let's get the son of a bitch alive."

With a flourish, she readied it near her mouth. "Hold on tight," she ordered before she gritted her teeth and charged. Closing the short distance, she jumped and kicked the door open with the weight of both of them behind it.

Zarron sat in wait, tense and ready on a four-posted canopy bed, with intense eyes and the crooked smile of an ambush.

"Sleep!" he shouted, throwing an arm out toward her in an attempt to cast the same spell he'd used on her daughters but at range, with a crinkle of his sleeve and no other effect. Her relagite charm warmed between her breasts, confirming to her a job well done.

"You sleep!"

Portia lifted the blowgun and fired it as she charged, closing the distance between them, keeping her momentum with her son on her back.

Zarron was frozen for the moment for his spell having completely failed and it made him an easy target for the dart to stick right in his chest. She dropped the blowgun and reached out as she leaped onto the bed.

The raccoon scrambled back, snapping out of his stupor and she was mid-air, claws out when he managed to snap his fingers in panic. With a crackle of hot air and a bluish puff, he was gone again and they landed hard on the mattress, their bodies and the bouncing bed dissipating any lingering smoke into nothingness.

"Motherfucker!" She punched the pillow, gritting her teeth.

"The seal is right above us!" Joseph twisted to point to the ceiling, tugging his knot against her insides once again. She winced then clamored to her feet for the both of them, standing unsteadily on the soft mattress. She reached for the seal, hidden behind the semi-opaque canopy of the bed, just over a foot outside her reach.

"Hold on, Joseph!" she said and squatted low before jumping, taking a handful of the sheer cloth and tearing it down. She jumped again, tossing the curtain aside and building momentum off the mattress, all the while Joseph's cock not letting her forget it's stiff presence in her bowels.

The vixen bounced again, as she loosened the relagite charm from her neck and lifted it over her head. She touched the seal on the fifth jump, with her barely able to reach the ceiling. The marvel of engineering that was her leather top demonstrating her armorer's mastery, holding the mass of her heavy breasts perfectly in place as she bounced violently.

With a few more jumps, any forgiving softness to Joseph's cock was gone again. The vixen jumped on the bed for the both of them and guided his erection to find the extents of every sliver of travel it had, poking at the bottom of her stomach until she tasted bile.

She nicked it several more times over more bounces and she could feel Joseph's cock throbbing inside her with eager hardness while he clutched on to her desperately, holding his breath. Each jump was impaling herself on him again.

Portia lost count of how many more times jumping on the bed it took completely break it but it finally did, the seal confirming its demise with a now familiar sizzle and the exhausted vixen slowed to a stop, drenched in sweat, swaying on tired, burning legs. Joseph was breathless, wide-eyed and hanging on with all his strength, painfully hard inside her and deep enough to straighten her lower back. "Are you sure you broke it, Mother? Maybe just make sure?" She didn't acknowledge the request and collapsed to the bed, face down, panting and sweating once again.

"Gods be damned, I hate wizards."

"At least we got the book, Mother. Maybe I can help find Zarron. Are we going to rescue them?"

"I don't think I have any other choice."

"That's great! I want to help however I can."

Joseph looked over to the bedside, spotting the both of them in a vanity mirror in the corner of the room. He shifted his hips slightly, moving his massive length deep inside her, to a small, surprised groan from her.

"Joseph..."

"All that running and jumping was like we were having sex again. Can I ... finish? I'm so close."

She looked over to the mirror at the both of them and sighed heavily. His knot would last a lot longer if he was about to cum. Besides, the damage was already done. The danger was gone along with her willpower and the excitement of the suggestion made her entire body surge with arousal. The pit of guilt in her stomach was being poked from below by him. "Fine. This is the last time this is ever going to happen, so make the most of it."

"Really Mother?"

"Just don't call me mother, please. At least not until you pull your cock out of my ass."

Joseph didn't hesitate into action. He threw his arms around her chest, finding the buckles of her top them tugging them free, one-by-one, loosening the whole breastplate.

"Joseph!? What are you doing?!"

"If this is the last time then I need to see them!" he said. With all three straps undone, he scooped his fingers under and pulled roughly up, pushing up her arms. It slid free with ease for all the sweat trapped beneath the leather and her fur. With another tug, he pulled the breastplate free of her entirely, forcing her to momentarily release the book for her arms to pin together over her head. The young fox cast it carelessly aside, staring at them in the mirror. Massive, white breasts pouring out of their hard leather prison, flopping out on the bed, quickly settling for their tremendous weight.

Joseph's erection throbbed when she thought he couldn't get any harder. He doubled over her, reaching down and around to grope her with awe, fingers and palms disappearing into the expanse of flesh. "Mother, you're incredible! You're so beautiful and your boobs are so amazing and big. They must shake so much!"

Eager hands darted down to her skirt then, opening the buckle so it fell beneath her, leaving her naked but for her boots. She reached out to snatch the book and clutched it against her side.

Soft, heavy breasts tremored beneath her in echo to his deliberate attempts to test his assumption with his hips and Joseph watched in the mirror at the easy effect his movements had on them. A hand moved down and around her, exploring her sex with curious fingers and finding heat and wetness. "You're still soaking wet, mother!" Knowing he was her son didn't affect the sensation at all and she stammered breathlessly before he pushed against her clitoris then curled up inside her, coaxing forth a deep gasp and an arch of her spine. "I want to make you cum again, Mother!"

That wasn't going to be a problem. His hands were more skilled than they had any right to be and she surged with arousal at the overwhelming magnetism between their bodies. Her eyes were locked to their joining in the mirror, finding more fire than shame at the sight of her bent over and mounted by her son. Her jaw fell agape and she sucked in a deep breath. "This is the most fucked up thing I've ever done."

Joseph couldn't quite thrust more than an inch or so with his knot locked to her but it didn't stop him from trying. He mashed his hips to her extremes, stirring his length inside her, a thick tree trunk of flesh, invading the softness of her insides to seeking friction. His palm pressed against her clitoris while fingers curled within her, his hand nearly vibrating with youthful vigor. His motions unsealed himself from her enough that the semen from his last orgasm was consistently oozing out of her, down the crack of her bottom, over her sex and down her inner thighs. His other hand was just as eager to be lifting and groping a heavy breast, unable to reach far enough around to find the other. "Your pussy is so wet, mother! I want to fuck it again!"

"No!"

Portia looked at herself in the mirror, her body writhing and grinding back against him, the guilt and shame of what she had accidentally done and the weight of familial revelation falling behind her primal desires. His hips rammed against her hard, quaking her chest deliberately and his eyes locked on them in the mirror.

_ Some kind of mother you are _ . She glared at her reflection, naked and mounted by her son as she felt another impending orgasm. Sex was so easy with him! A thought came, dark enough to make even her blush: was this why incest was so forbidden? Because it was just so incredibly good? It was absurd enough to dismiss as her coherent mind was again shattered by a quivering climax.

Joseph was no less handsome for the discovery of their relation and that electricity and connection she felt from the moment she first saw him was still very much present. He looked exactly as her son should, almost her spitting image with the distinct sock pattern on his limbs and pepper marks down his cheeks, neck and chest. Everyone would know they were related. No one could know this had happened.

She looked on as his eyes drank in the form of her body with a youthful excitement. "I'm so close, mother! I don't want this to ever end! But I'm going to cum!" He became more erratic behind her, breath shaking. Moaning in shameful delight, she pushed back against him, grinding her hips around his cock and fingers to another shattering orgasm. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the mirror as they rocked together, mother and son. Lovers.

Suddenly he scrambled forward, toward their reflection, pushing them both over the edge of the bed. He planted a foot as they started to fall and pulled her upright, maneuvering so he landed on the floor and her entire weight fell down on his lap, a sharp cry escaping her muzzle at the sudden deeper lancing of her insides. He swung his legs up and around hers, between her thighs before pulling them apart, exposing her full, unabashed sex, a mess of wet fur surrounding it. She clutched Zarron's ledger, mashed against her bare breast, wondering how deep into the book's many pages that Joseph was.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she arched her back, lifting her chest high and proud, regal for him and for herself in their final moments of incest. His fingers and hand resumed, grinding firmly into her sex and underneath, his tight, cum-laded sack looked ready to burst.

He tensed behind her. "I'm cumming, mother! I'm cumming again!" The surge of semen in the tightness of her insides didn't require announcement, a rolling heat blasting up into the curves of her intestines and she was roaring out in orgasm herself, his attention and adoration irresistible. She rolled back her head but not far enough that she couldn't see herself in the mirror. Transfixed and horrfied by her reflection, her jaw fall open to cry out in delight, the crinkle of her brows and look of excitement and disgust at her newfound level of deviancy. She didn't look any different but now she had crossed an unthinkable line and found previously unfathomable pleasure on the other side.

Joseph's hands fell to her hips, grinding her down and around into him, stirring himself inside her as his orgasm trailed off, his sack visibly smaller from unloading so much of his youthful vigor. Her abdomen was hard and warm, her intestines full of a double load of semen.

"You're a little fucking pervert, just like your mother," she grunted, unable to look away from the mirror. The teen gave a huff of a laugh before leaning his head over her shoulder, his nose seeking hers. She turned to look at him, her fur soaking with sweat and her body panting with vigor. "That can never happen again. And you can never tell anyone. Do you understand?"

The young fox gave a small nod. "Never again," before he closed the distance between muzzles, meeting her in a slow and tender kiss. Joseph's hand took a grip on her chest while his tongue pushed out into her waiting mouth, coming to dance with her own. Portia cracked her eyes to look at their reflection, tied together in a mess of sexual energy, the book tugged tight along her side. His adoration was more pure than she'd ever seen from a lover and certainly more than she'd ever experienced from her family. It felt perfectly natural to melt back into him. Eventually the kiss broke, leaving them looking into each other's eyes.

Portia raised a hand to rest on his cheek before she softly but sternly repeated:

"Never again."

  
  


THE END


End file.
